


you and i, a force of nature

by memento_amare



Series: snapshots in time [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Awkward Tension, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Historical, Non-Graphic Violence, Tension, Unresolved Tension, iwa is a gentleman, oiks has a little sister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27736444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memento_amare/pseuds/memento_amare
Summary: this is the beginnings of a storm.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader
Series: snapshots in time [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029228
Kudos: 33





	you and i, a force of nature

Tonight’s festivities are in full swing, the bright notes of the fiddle echoing through the room. People sway and laugh along with the music; the men ask the women to dance, and they, giggling, allow themselves to be swept away. Indeed, the warm light of the chandelier fits the occasion.

A small smile blooms on your features as you watch the party (genuine, lonely).

The music, the cajoling, the joyful laughter—perhaps you could be moved to dance too, with the right man.

But it is the third and last night of the festivities, and you’ve resigned yourself to another couple of hours of standing off ways to the side. None approach you. The rare ones that do are met with a polite smile and firm decline. Still, you regret nothing.

Beside you, little Eri tugs on your sleeve.

“Why don’t you dance too?”

(Let it be known that you tried, but found disappointment. Turns out, men are as substantial as an empty pot, clanging loudly precisely when there is hardly anything inside to begin with.

You have little patience for them: the fickle beings who would sweep you off your feet only to let you crash to the ground after.)

“There’s not a single person in this room I’d like to dance with, unfortunately.” You sigh. You glance at her playfully, bopping her nose with a gloved finger. “Everyone is boring. They can’t possibly compete with your company.”

Her nose scrunches as she giggles.

“Would you like to get out of here?” You lean down, holding your fan over your face in a conspiratorial whisper. 

Eri’s face lights up, and she nods. You mirror the crinkle of her eyes. Standing, you offer your hand and she takes it, hopping off her seat. The two of you make your way forward.

“Mother,” you announce, “Eri and I wish to be excused. If I may take her for a walk in the garden?” The conversation halts, all eyes of the company turning to you.

Your mother regards you with a pleasant smile—pleasant, at least, to the untrained eye. “Perhaps Eri’s brother would be a better option since it is already dark.” Already, you sense the beginnings of a lengthy exchange.

“He is with his fiancée, mother, surely you do not wish to disturb them.” Your tone is carefully neutral, but despite this front, unease begins to condense in your stomach like storm clouds.

She regards you with a delicately raised brow—a warning.

“Surely you would prefer to stay? I am sure the gentlemen here would be most willing to converse with you.“

_(You have been avoiding them the whole evening. You are not here to babysit your cousin.)_

“It has already been clear to me that my thoughts are not welcomed among them,” you say smoothly. “I would rather save them the embarrassment that they had already experienced in our last exchange.” They flinch, much to your satisfaction.

_(I have no time for men who want trophies, not wives.)_

You’re already well-aware of how people speak of you; the girl with too much to say about too many things. You’ve long embraced it.

Storms do not apologize.

You repeat your request. “Please, if we may take our leave.”

You stare each other down for a few long seconds, static faintly crackling in the air.

You are a whiplash of wind and rain; lightning and thunder wielded with unapologetic grace. No intimidation can make you cow down here.

Finally, your mother’s mouth presses into a thin line. “Very well,” she says, tone sharp and cold as winter. The fan held above her chest does not snap shut, but her eyes say it all.

_(Then you may as well find no husband, daughter.)_

“Thank you. if you would pardon us.” the men bow to you both, but your mind is already elsewhere.

Something begins to curl around your shoulders: cold, unpleasant, and familiar, your mother’s winter piercing you to your bones. Your head lowers, a shadow covering your eyes.

Storms do not apologize, yet they are also lonely.

_(If men are what men are and not even a smidgen of what I envision them to be, then I will have none of it._

_…Still, I am not opposed to love.)_

—

Eri has not yet spoken, even as you arrive in the garden. The tension from earlier is still palpable in the air. Schooling your features into a convincing smile, you try to shift her attention. 

“Eri-chan, your brother tells me you enjoyed the book I sent to you the other week.”

It seems to work, her eyes lighting up as she launches into her story. You listen intently, laughing and agreeing at the parts she enjoyed the most.

Eri tugs you through the gardens of the estate, among rows of tulips and bluebells. You help her reach and touch the ones up on the branches, the mud on the ground catching on your hem as you move from tree to tree.

“Your dress!” She grabs at your skirt, lip jutting in distress at the dirt lingering on the cloth.

“It’s alright, Eri-chan, as long as there’s no dirt on yours, I’m alright.” You grin. You place your hand over hers, gently prompting her to release it. “Nothing soap and water won’t fix at home.”

(“My sister loves you,” Oikawa muses, returning to you a familiar-looking children’s book. “She says she wants to be like you when she grows older.” You hum, fingers skimming over the pages of the book, worn and fragile. You glance at the volume resting on your table—Mary: A Fiction.

Your lips curl into a smile, but it does not quite reach your eyes. “Perhaps that is not the best thing to be.”

Storms die by consuming themselves. That is not what you wish for her.)

—

You’re sharing the plot of another book you think she may enjoy when you step out from the bushes and onto the lit path. Eri’s laughter ceases. Looking in front of you, you draw in a sharp breath.

The man smiles, none too gentle.

Eri curls in your side, and immediately, your hand covers her figure protectively. Your curtsy passes in the blink of an eye, a shallow dip of your skirts before you straighten.

“Good evening, sir.“

“What might two ladies be doing alone in the dark?” He slurs. If you had not smelled the alcohol on his person, it would be evident in his voice.

Ice curls into your veins, cold and sharp, but you do your best to keep your posture loose. Half of their satisfaction is from your fear.

“Merely a walk in the gardens. If you would excuse us, our family is waiting inside.” You move to pass, but he blocks your way. Your chest squeezes painfully, fingers clammy under your gloves.

“Please, allow me to escort you back to the party. It is unsafe for two lovely ladies to be out in such a manner.“ Eri’s hand on your sleeve tightens.

You bare your teeth in something that is more a snarl than a smile. The words are softly spoken, steel beneath silk. “Thank you for your offer, good sir, however, my cousin and I can find our way in the estate without supervision.”

“Nonsense,“ you stiffen at his words, at the blatant dismissal in his tone. "I insist.”

Beside you, Eri whimpers. it is enough to thaw the cold grip of fear over your body.

Subtly, you nudge her further behind you, still keeping a hand in front of her. “Sir, perhaps you misheard me. We decline.”

The air smells of static, The sharpness of danger growing with every second. Your heartbeat thumps, loud as thunder. You don’t move.

The vein on his temple bulges, anger flaring in his eyes for a split second before he lunges.

Eri screams. You dodge to the right, one hand still in the back towards her, the other coming up to strike the side of his neck.

He chokes, stumbling.

“I said,“ you repeat, “We decline.” He staggers to his feet.

Before can manage anything else, however, a shadow comes up behind him, gripping his shoulder.

“I would listen to her if I were you.” You shiver at his dark tone. Beside him, Eri’s brother emerges, a storm cloud forming under his normally jovial features. Oikawa Tooru’s lips are pulled back into a snarl.

“I would ask that you not show such drunken and insulting displays in front of my sister,” he hisses.

The other figure adds, “You should leave before you embarrass yourself any more.” The man swears, colorful enough to make any respectable lady blush.

You do not. Your posture does not ease, only relaxing once he is gone. Turning to the unknown man, you dip your head.

“Thank you, sir.” He turns, dark gaze capturing yours.

_Oh._

The howling wind ceases, droplets of rain suspended in the air. The world stills, everything reduced to the singular point where his eyes meet yours.

Then, you breathe, and it moves once again.

Ears burning, you tear your gaze away, beckoning Eri to you. “Are you alright?“ She runs into your waiting arms, burying her small face into your neck. You rub soothing circles onto her back, whispering, _it’s okay, he’s gone now._

She parts from you, lunging at her brother. His features soften into guilt, and he kneels, hugging her equally as fierce. Once he stands again, Oikawa turns to you.

“Your mother was concerned that you had not returned after ten minutes.” _Ah_. For once, you’re thankful that she had been prompt about sending someone after you. A breath passes.

The man beside you coughs, and he blinks in realization. “Oh! right. L/n-chan, this is my esteemed and most trusted friend, Iwaizumi Hajime. He is visiting for a few days before returning to his town.

“Iwa-chan,“ the other man very nearly rolls his eyes at the nickname; you stifle a laugh at his expression. “This is my cousin, l/n y/n.”

He moves, taking your hand in his.

The laugh turns into a muted intake of breath at the way his touch burns through your gloves. You still as he raises it to his lips, pressing the barest ghost of a kiss against your knuckles.

It is a terrible, fatal blow.

“L/n-san.”

You curtsy, hiding the damage of his attack. “Again, I must thank you for your timely intervention, Iwaizumi-san.”

“It was nothing. I am sure you would have diffused the situation yourself.” 

There is nothing mocking or sarcastic in his voice, not even a sliver of condescension. If he had said anything else, implied anything else, you would have cut through his words with cool fire, just as you had done with any other before him; watch as they try to justify their words with antiquated so-called truths. 

But _this man—_

You smile. “Perhaps. But I thank you nonetheless.“

His lips quirk a little, the rough lines of his face softening into a rugged sort of handsome. He tilts his head in acquiesce. “Then you are most welcome.” Your eyes meet, like an inside joke not to be shared—gaze no longer mysterious, but no less enthralling.

Something deep within you stirs. You are hyperaware of the fact that he is still holding your hand. 

His touch lingers a half-second longer before he releases it.

For a brief, mad, moment, you want to bring him somewhere with a brighter light, so you may see the true color of his eyes. You want to step forward and see how he reacts to your touch. You want him to kiss your hand again, but with no gloves, merely the press of lips to skin.

You blink, surprised at your thoughts.

“Shall we return then? I don’t wish to keep my fiancée lonely while we stay here in this darkness.” Oikawa pulls you out of yourself, and you force yourself to nod, clearing your throat.

 _Say something. Anything._ “I’m sure she is rejoicing at the brief respite from your overwhelming presence, dear cousin.“ He sputters, and beside him, Eri giggles. Iwaizumi cracks a smile. Your heart flutters at his glance.

Oikawa takes little Eri’s hand, leading the way back to the party. You are left with Iwaizumi. After a breath, he offers you his elbow, and you accept, delicately looping your hand through it. He casts you a smile that is perhaps a little shy.

The tips of your ears burn, but oddly, you don’t mind it at all.

—

Iwaizumi leaves before the party ends, something about needing to fix matters before he departs once again. After Oikawa and Eri see him off, he turns to you.

“L/n-san,” he dips his head.

“Iwaizumi-san,“ you return. You hesitate, but the words slip from your tongue. “Will we see each other again?” You wish you could run, away from the embarrassment of such vulnerability.

In his presence you are both a storm and a house of cards, destroying yet also the destroyed.

His cool façade cracks for a moment, eyes widening before he coughs, regaining his composure. “P-perhaps.“ He bows stiffly, the barest hint of a blush on his cheeks, and the next moment, he is gone.

—

At the next party, Oikawa claps Iwaizumi’s back, proclaiming that this rare opportunity of his friend willingly coming must be savored while it lasts. He wonders the reason for this sudden eagerness, and Iwaizumi shuts down the notion at once. His friend only grins knowingly.

Iwaizumi scowls. Still, his eyes search the crowd, holding on to the hope that perhaps, perhaps—

When you look up, a pair of eyes are already on yours.

Just like before, time stops.

You meet his gaze, steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

You have yet to understand this feeling: how he makes you undone and complete in equal measure, a heightened howling of wind and rain yet the eye of a storm all at once.

This is dark clouds on the horizon, static crackling, the first few warning gusts of wind blowing past your ears. The most breathtaking kind of lightning is olive green.

For the first time, you find yourself wishing to dance tonight.


End file.
